


love me on your knees

by xylodemon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylodemon/pseuds/xylodemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dacey had blamed battle-lust after Whispering Wood and Oxcross, had needed a release for the rush in her blood, the itch under her skin, but they've been camped for three days, repairing their armor and resting the horses; she has no excuse tonight, and Robb is just a green boy new to the ways of women, just enamored with the idea of having something warm and wet around his cock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love me on your knees

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/profile)[**asoiafkinkmeme**](http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/) , and the prompt _Robb/Dacey, the king who knelt_.

Robb catches her arm as the men file from the tent, brushes his thumb over the inside of her wrist as she turns back to face him.

"You've been avoiding me," he says quietly, his mouth too close to her ear.

"No, Your Grace."

"Don't call me that," he says, pressing his lips to her jaw, resting his hand at the hollow of her throat.

"Robb," Dacey says, her breath hitching as he hides a kiss below her ear, as he drags his mouth down to her neck, nipping lightly at her skin. "We shouldn't -- this can't continue. You are betrothed."

He tugs on the laces of her jerkin, slips his hand past the leather to cup her breast, runs his thumb over her nipple. "I want you."

"You just want," Dacey says sharply, leaning away from him. She had blamed battle-lust after Whispering Wood and Oxcross, had needed a release for the rush in her blood, the itch under her skin, but they've been camped for three days, repairing their armor and resting the horses; she has no excuse tonight, and Robb is just a green boy new to the ways of women, just enamored with the idea of having something warm and wet around his cock. 

She slides her hand over his jaw, starts to push his face away from hers, but he sucks her fingers into his mouth, soft lips and slow curls of his tongue, and she sighs in spite of her reservations, shivers as his teeth catch the tip of her finger and flash of heat curls in her belly. He presses closer, wrapping his arm around her waist as he rubs his cock against her hip; he kisses her, pushing his tongue into her mouth, moaning as he slips his hand into her breeches, as he strokes his fingers inside her.

"Gods, Dacey. Your cunt," Robb says, his open mouth sliding over her throat. "I dream about it."

"Do you?" she asks, knotting her hands in his hair, pulling his mouth up to hers before he leaves another mark she has to hide from her mother, from the men. "Tell me about it."

"Last night it was Oxcross," he says, his lips moving against hers. "Having you on top of me." He brushes his thumb over her nub, pulling a soft noise from the back of her throat; she's already embarrassingly wet, his fingers making obscene, slick sounds as they press and curl and twist. "Watching your teats bounce, seeing you touch yourself. And your cunt -- gods, I thought I would die from it."

She runs her hand over the front of his breeches, slowly palming the curve of his cock. Oxcross had been hard fought, a surprise victory against overwhelming odds; he had spent quickly that night, thrusting up desperately to meet the steady roll of her hips, his face dirty and the sour taste of battle still in his mouth. He had pushed her back onto the furs before he had even caught his breath, bringing her off with his fingers, licking and kissing and sucking her breasts until her legs shook and her nipples ached.

"I want to know what you taste like," he says, nudging her back into the table, his plans and maps rustling against her skin as he draws her breeches down and slides to his knees.

Robb looks up at her, his eyes wide and dark, his hair curling wildly around his face, nearly brown in the weak, flicking light from the lamps, then leans into her, nosing at the crease of her hip, his beard rough against the inside of her thigh. He presses a soft kiss to her mound, tracing his fingers over her, drawing her open as his tongue flicks over her folds; she doesn't think he has done this before, but he is eager enough, dipping his tongue inside her, licking and sucking at her nub, moaning as he digs his fingers into her hip and presses his face against her.

"Gods, Dacey," he says, his voice hoarse, his lips flushed and wet. "You taste like summer."

She laughs at that, throaty and warm, the sound twisting into a moan as he leans back in and brushes his tongue over her nub, as he pushes her thighs farther apart and curls his fingers inside her. She hooks her leg over his shoulder, her hips arching away from the table; she slides her hand into his hair, holding his mouth to her nub, shuddering as he strokes his tongue over it, as he drags his lips against it. She peaks suddenly, heat flaring in her belly and rushing under her skin, her cunt fluttering around his fingers and her thighs trembling against his face. 

Robb kisses her with his mouth still wet from her, groaning as she tugs on his laces, nipping at her lip as she strokes her hand over his cock. 

"Would you have me on top of you again?" she asks, kicking her breeches away. "On the furs?" 

"I would have you right here."

He catches her by the hips, turning her and pushing her down over the table, making a beautiful, desperate noise in the back of his throat as he slides his cock inside her. The maps are rough against her nipples, delicious friction that makes a slow shiver curl down the line of her back; she clutches at them, the old parchment tearing under her fingers as he thrusts into her, as he spends with his teeth at the back of her neck, breathing her name against his skin.


End file.
